Secret Sunset
by MamaOwl
Summary: Blood is something that people typically can't ignore; be it fresh, or old. What happens when a woman closely knitted in Alucard's past wanders onto the playing field, bearing the same mark of the night he holds - will they become enemies or possible allies? OCxAlucard


'_When people die - where do they go? Heaven, Hell, an Abyss that is shrouded in white? Or, maybe it's an entire Oblivion of black. Does it matter where their soul ends up - does it really matter? It only matters to those who are left behind, does it not? To those who mourn and encase sorrow in their heartstrings.'_

Angel's head ached with the struggle of understanding the merciless trial before her; the man before her clad in armor and a smile that could have shone through pitch black stared down at her. War - for God, they had claimed; she didn't know if the man was real - but surely something was there… But, she couldn't tell her beloved that their wager was foolish. A life for a God that might not exist. It was evident that her husband didn't care about the quest for God, but for the victory of a won battle. But, she played the part of a wife well; though her thirtieth year had approached and she laid baren without heir. Obeying her husband and offering encouragement and support was all she could do - and the man before her could never ask for more. Which was something in itself a miracle; she was four years the boys senior. Younger boys typically didn't go for those hitting their early twenties in the days she was alive. The thought tugged her back to her younger ears of twenty-two.

_The elder dame had met the boy on a trip to the far south of England - he'd taken up residence in the inn by the waterside. So far from home, she'd remembered. She had partaken in a slow walk on the edge of the sandy shore at the afterglow of a strong sunset - it was nearly night, and was surprised to find a young man, sitting against the waves with his feet in the water. His tousled hair shrouded his face in the dim lighting of the evening; they were dark curls, almost pitch black. He was tall, even as he was sitting - scrunched over his work in eagerness. _

_He had a tattered book in his right hand, and a quill in his left. When she addressed him, and he turned rather quickly to respond. His eyes seemed to widen at her appearance - almost in awe that someone such as she had inquired his attention. His eyes... they shone a soft brown. But one could get lost in them as if staring into a black hole. His features were soft, and his skin was ivory. When he finally spoke with a mere 'good evening', Angel recalled that she'd never heard an accent quite like his and demanded where he'd washed up from (in the snobbiest manner she could muster with her head held high and her eyes placed glaringly on his face). Romania, he'd said - how oddly he'd shuffled in awkwardness as he'd admitted his lineage. Angel found it strange; the man was thousands of miles from his homeland - speaking broken English and tittering on shyness about his desire to paint the lands he'd traveled across. That… is what stood out to Angel. A young boy of seemingly 18 He spoke to her kindly, however, more so than any man she'd met prior. With no family remaining other than her younger sister Eva, she was no longer cautious approaching strangers (despite her status of a lower class Countess). She considered him to be a peasant. A handsome peasant. To which she invited to wine and doted on shortly after - saying he was far too scrawny to be in her company, she made him a small meal with what she had in her makeshift-home. He'd told her his name was Ioan Vali Vladimirescu. She found the name ridiculous. So flamboyant - it actually made her snort with a slight cackle._

"_Honestly, your name is so long and drawn out - " The man tilted his head. "If you think so, give me new one." Angel was taken aback. "... T-that's not how it works." She said, her face turning a shade of pink. "You don't even know mine." The boy smiled a wide grin, "Does it matter? My name displeases you - change it, dragostea mea." Angel clicked her tongue, not understanding his foreign speech. "Aren't you just a charmer, jack." she said crossing her arms and staring pensively at the man. Then, she realized that's what the boy in front of her was. Just a man. "That is what your name is now. Jack." Ioan chuckled, "Jack it is then." Angel felt awkward at this - she didn't know if confusion was setting in, or if it was a cruel enjoyment making the man a new face to mold to. "Cum te cheama?" Angel blinked, "Pardon?" The man cleared his throat, "What I call you?" It was clear that he was struggling with finding correct words to use in an English tongue. "My family called me Angel - like in the Holy book, the people with pretty wings of God. Mother told me when I was in her womb, I made her skin glow like she'd been touched by the hands of the lord. The man of the church came to her and said 'You! My lady! You have the essence of the holy one inside you!' and she laughed, asking him what he'd meant. He told her that when she walked she looked like she was gliding on air. He told her that she reminded him of a blessed holy servant of God. An angel. So, that's what she named me. It's a very peculiar name. Jack tilted his head, "Anghel…" he said softly, tasting the syllables on his tongue. "It is very much prettier than before." Angel couldn't help that the flattery shown on her face when she smiled. "Why, thank you."_

_The two spoke quite frequently as they spent most of the night together back in the home she was residing at; while Eva remained upstairs, listening like a giddy child through the cracks of the old floor (they knew well that she was there - but they did nothing to scurry her away). It seemed as if they were old friends, and the more they talked - be it about life, the current sadness of the world, family… Angel found herself touching his hand tenderly by the end of their early morning talk. She probably would have said more yet had the man not told her he must go and she must rest because 'bags beneath an angel's eyes wasn't heavenly'. "But I might never see you again." She protested childishly. "I will come back. Evening time is better for talking. More personal. You must rest." She let her hands settle in her lap as he stood. She looked down at her hands in slight turmoil. "I suppose so."_

_The man walked over to her and leaned down, "As vrea sa te sarut." He said softly, getting closer to Angel's face. Startling her a bit, she put her hand out onto his shoulder to stop him. He looked as if he was searching his limited database of English to proclaim what he wanted. "Kiss." he said suddenly, "To kiss." He gestured to his lips. The gesture itself was cute - and Angel looked to the side with a rather pronounced pout. "Only lovers kiss." she stated coldly. Jack pulled back slightly. "I will wait." Angel looked up at him with quirked brow. "... Hm. You're an oddity, that's for certain."_

And that oddity became her husband. And a world of difference entered her own.

And before her stood her glorious beloved; eager for her approval and her acceptance of his idea for a journey.

And even though her heart was heavy and against his announcement of a war battle, Angel composed herself and cleared her throat; her back straightening against the stiff chair. Her husband leaned down onto one knee and took her hand in his, gently laying his lips against her knuckles. Angel's eyes downcast slightly, her brows scrunching together.

"Don't you dare try and tenderly woo me out of my temperament, Jack." She scolded him in an aggressive manner, abruptly yanking her hand from his grip. Jack's features softened and he let out a soft centered sigh, "Anghel... ingerasul mea, please." He begged her. "I want to make you proud." Angel scoffed and gave him a nasty glance. "I'm already proud of you Jack! I don't want you wandering off into God only knows what and get yourself killed!" Jack's eyes averted from hers in shame. "I will not die." he stated more tenderly. "You say that - but when happens when I'm alone again? Huh - did you ever think about that?" It was obvious the blonde was displeased. "I wish to do this. I must." he stated, letting his other knee drop to the floor as he laid his head in the woman's lap. "Printesa mea… Iubirea ca moartea e de tare. Love. _Our love. _Is strong, much stronger than death." Angel's eyes grew dreary and she let her hand sit carefully on the man's long black locks. "... I know. I… I know."

"Then understand me." he told her, "Understand my want to make a name for me. To make you proud. Make our home strong. Strong like our love." Angel's shoulders shrugged downward in pain. What is a name without happiness? She placed her hands over her face and began to sob uncontrollably. "Te voi iubi mereu." Jack told her quietly, taking her wrists in his hands and pulling her arms down from her soggy eyes. "My heart, it belong to you. I will do anything to make you happy. Anghel, tu esti sufletul meu pereche. My only." Angel nodded, her eyes clouded with the haze of fresh tears. "Come back home. Safely." She demanded him, though her voice quivered. She looked down at him, her eyes welling up with tears as she watched Jack shift.

The man gave her a tiny smile and leaned upwards to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. "Ce ma fac eu fara tine? It will be very lonely without your company. Especially in the night." Angel felt her face get warmer as she turned her head to avert his gaze. "I won't be lonely. I'll be comfortable. You are the most unruly sleeper." Jack merely chuckled and stood, placing a gentle hand on her hair. "You steal covers. You sleep on top of me. And you kick."

"You shouldn't get so close to me then." Angel felt her chin getting lifted up by Jack's hand. "I can not help it. Te iubesc la." Angel's cheeks became even more flushed and closed her eyes, pouting a bit. "You're so odd, Jack." He always said the right things at the wrong times; and it made her heart flutter and quinch. "... So, what time do you leave?" she asked hesitantly, looking up at him. "In the morning. Very early. Before sun rises." He looked down at her and his pearly whites gleamed, "One more night to get kicked in back by tiny feet." Angel stood up abruptly and put her hands on her hips. "I'll do more than kick you if you keep teasing me, Jack!" she said defensively, though clearly in her voice she wasn't so angry.

"Let's go to bed. You need rest, Anghel." The blonde sighed gently, and let her shoulders drop. "And you," She said with a firm nod of her head in his direction, "need to stop being so charming."

The softness of the night dwelled on through the bedroom, and the only sound that mocked the crickets was that of soft moans intertwined in the sheets of a large canopy bed. Angel's hair was tossed all over the pillows and her hands couldn't find where they wanted to grip the most. Strong hands encircled the petite blonde's waist, lifting her up against tender thrusts. Angel's lips moved in short and quiet gasps. Jack's face gently nuzzled against hers, his nose touching her warm cheek and his hot breath misting on her ear. "Inima mea bate alaturi de a ta… C-can you feel it?" He whispered, placing her hand against his chest as his hips moved in mild thrusts. "It beats. Only for you. Only you."

Angel's eyes searched the man's face above her, she stared at him with such loving eyes - the thought of losing him made her emotional. She shoved her face into his hair and clung tightly to Jack's body. "Don't… don't leave me."

Jack's arms wrapped around her tightly and his thrusting became more frequent and deeper. "I'm… N-not going… anywhere…" He panted heavily into Angel's ear. She knew good well he was lying. But she could feel his love; not this lust between man and woman - but a strong enough love to echo through a terrible abyss of loneliness. She felt his grip tighten suddenly and his body go rigid against hers as he spilled his essence within her womb. She felt everything all at once and then… nothing at all. _Peace. _

Angel swallowed, her throat dry. Jack lifted his head and stared down at his beloved wife. His left hand shifted and placed itself against her stomach, "This time." Angel's eyes softened and she nodded softly. "Yes… This time."

The blonde held doubts; but what could she do - her husband rushing off to a war he was meant to lose, and her one hope resided in a night of whimsy and passive luck. But, being held in his arms as he slept made her ache in her heart. Not waking up to his face made her tremble. He looked like a perfect being, curled up against her, her head under his chin and his arms tugging her tightly to his chest. She couldn't fall asleep. She didn't want to.

She couldn't help but lay there and think over and over again, '_Don't go.'_


End file.
